Harry Potter and the Second Wizarding War
by rifraf
Summary: At the end of GoF, if Dumbledore hadn't let Fudge bury his head in the sand, how would the Second War have played out? I'll try to keep it as close to canon as possible, though there'll likely be some fanfics which'll influence this story anyway.. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

For anyone who'd been following my previous fanfic, I can only apologise for disappearing for so long. a combination of studies, lack of inspiration and finding other passions kept me from ever getting back into continuing HPatHH. After reading so many other people's wonderful stories, everything I'd written felt cliché .. but I think I may now have a genuinely new idea here, though I haven't fleshed it out yet, so I don't know exactly where I'm going with it. I'd like your feedback though, as I'm not sure if this premise has been taken before, I'm fairly sure I haven't read anything that takes off where mine does, but I don't want to do something which has been done (well) before. Anyway, let me know if it's an idea worth pursuing. Happy reading!

Basic Premise: When Harry gets back to Hogwarts after escaping Voldemort at the end of GoF, why didn't he suggest when Fudge didn't believe him about Voldemort's return, that he use Dumbledore's Pensieve or Veritaserum to prove his story (he at this point not knowing how either could be faked/circumvented)? He'd after all had direct exposure to both that year, and both methods would have corroborated his story, in his mind. My story takes off from the scene in the Infirmary, and pursues this possibility, so a lot of the first chapter's just been lifted from the original works - I've put that in italics. Anyway, enjoy!

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story; they all belong to JK Rowlings. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.

_Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn't have been asleep very long._

_Then he heard whispering around him._

"_They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"_

"_What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have hap pened, can it?"_

_Harry opened his eyes blearily Someone had removed his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her feet._

"_That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"_

_Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing._

"_Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly._

"_You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Pro fessor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"_

_Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry sat up and put his glasses back on._

_Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels._

"_Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley._

"_He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to —"_

_But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward._

"_What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —"_

"_There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumble dore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"_

_Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury._

"_When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —"_

"_I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"_

"_My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, "as Minister of Magic, it is my deci sion whether I wish to bring protection with me when interview ing a possibly dangerous —"_

_But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's._

"_The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"_

_Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall strug gled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead._

"_By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"_

"_But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumble dore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."_

"_Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"_

"_Lord Voldemort __was__ giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan suc ceeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."_

_Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore._

"_You-Know-Who … returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dum bledore …"_

"_As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumb ledore, "we heard Barry Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to cap ture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Volde mort to return."_

"_See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, and Harry was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, "you — you can't seri ously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now … certainly, Crouch may have __believed__ himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore …"_

"_When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was trans ported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He wit nessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."_

_Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."_

_Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"_

_There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge._

"_Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's ac count of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."_

_Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering._

"_You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who … well …"_

_Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly under stood._

"_You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," he said quietly._

_Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake._

_Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face._

"_And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have dis covered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place —"_

"_I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been ex periencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly._

"_You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"_

"_Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step to ward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."_

_Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn._

"_You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. …"_

"_Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"_

_Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge._

"_Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"_

"_Macnair!" Harry continued._

"_Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"_

"_Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"_

"_You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquit ted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumb ledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"_

"_You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"_

"_I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"_

_Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and ordered world — to believe that Voldemort could have risen._

Grasping at straws, Harry suddenly had an idea. "What if I could show you!" He exclaimed.

The silence was deafening. "Show me?" Fudge asked, befuddled. "How?" Everyone was staring at Harry in bewilderment, who in turn had fixed his gaze on Dumbledore, in askance. Dumbledore peered over his glasses at Harry for a moment before the ghost of a smile flitted across his features, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve! I can show you my memory of the night!"

Fudge's face, which had drained of all its colour after Harry's exclamation, instantly purpled again. "A Pensieve?" He blustered. "That would prove nothing! Everyone knows memories can be faked." Confused, Harry glanced at Professor Dumbledore for confirmation, who made to interrupt Fudge. "No one will believe –"

"Cornelius, are you implying that a fourteen year old student, who only learnt of the existence of Pensieves a few weeks ago, would be able to fake a memory so well that we would not be able to discern its validity?"

Fudge was brought up short, mid-rant. Everyone stared at his incredulously as he seemed to seriously ponder the clearly rhetorical question. "But we don't know what he's capable of, Albus! He can speak to snakes for heaven's sake, who knows what else he's capable of?"

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore thundered, "Enough!" he continued, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "You are blinded by the love of the office you hold!" Approaching Harry's bed while extracting his wand, his voice regained its usual gentle cadence, "Harry, if you could think of what happened this evening, from the moment you touched the Triwizard Cup until now, I will extract a copy of the memory to show Minister Fudge." Back now to the Minister, his voice regained some of the steel they had all heard moments earlier, "If however, you still refuse to act upon this, Cornelius, you and I will find ourselves parting ways. For the safety of the Wizarding World, I will be forced to present this memory, as well as Minerva, Severus' and mine, as evidence of Voldemort's return, and your corruption of the justice system, to the Wizengamot. No man is above the law, and you know very well that you had no authority to have Barty Crouch Kissed without a trial."

Harry concentrated hard on the night's events, as Dumbledore held his wand to Harry's temple. Fudge meanwhile, appeared to be on the verge of exploding. "Are you threatening me, Albus?" He all but yelled, as Dumbledore studiously ignored him, appearing entirely focused on the task at hand. Harry however, detected a slight tremor in his Headmaster's hand, as the venerable wizard appeared on the verge of losing his temper.

Fishing a vial out of one of his many pockets, Dumbledore gently guided the delicate strand of memory into it, before sealing the top with a murmur. Taking a calming breath, he turned back to the Minister, now apoplectic, after having his question completely ignored, but knowing there was little he could do about it.

"Why yes, I suppose I am Cornelius." Dumbledore finally responded in a pleasant voice, his beard twitching as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, "Shall you accompany me to my office to study this memory, or shall I convene a meeting of the Wizengamot for tomorrow morning?"

Fudge appeared to deflate as he realised he had lost his gambit, and Harry realised that Dumbledore was right. As much as Fudge didn't want to recognise that Voldemort was back, he wanted to remain in power more, and so would do anything to stay in office. "Very well, shall we go immediately? If the boy's" here he threw a dirty look at Harry, who stared right back at him, unflinching, "story is true, speed will be of the essence."

Ignoring Fudge's malice-filled tone, Dumbledore clapped in apparent elation, and strode forward. "Excellent! Shall we, Cornelius?" He asked, leading Fudge towards the doors of the infirmary. "I suspect that Harry would like to rest a while longer." Indeed, now that the excitement was over, Harry suddenly felt a heavy weight on his eyelids, and fought the urge to close his eyes and drift back off to sleep.

Dumbledore and Fudge had almost reached the door when Fudge paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"_Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances …"_

_He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room_, leaving Dumbledore at the door. Dumbledore waited a moment, before turning to the group around Harry's bed.

"There is work to be done," he said. "but most of it is thankfully not urgent, and the Minister is waiting for me. _Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready … if you are prepared …"_

"_I am," said Snape._

_He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glit tered strangely._

"_Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after_ Fudge.

"I must attend to the Minister," he said finally. "Minerva, would you please go downstairs and speak to the Diggorys. I will join you later. _Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."_

_Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore left the room. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time._

"_You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabi net as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while … think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"_

"_I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."_

_The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling._

"_It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs Weasley whispered._

"_I told him to take the cup with me," said Harry._

_Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away._

_Mrs Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him._

_There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was hold ing something tight in her hand._

"_Sorry," she whispered._

"_Your potion, Harry," said Mrs Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand._

_Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more._

A/N: So, thoughts anyone? Please be gentle with any flaming, it's been a while since I've written anything at all, and I haven't used a beta..


	2. Chapter 2

Apologies for the delay, I've been extremely busy lately, and also had a HD failure which lost me 3/4 of the chapter. It's a bit short this one, I was going to make it longer, but I got the last line, and thought it was actually a good place to end the chapter.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else in JKR's world. I am not making any money off this (sadly!), and anything in italics has been lifted from the books, and I'm just using to keep my story on track.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Harry woke up the next morning, he kept his eyes shut, as he processed everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. A familiar burning feeling crept up his throat as Cedric's face floated through his mind, before being blown away in a flash of green light.

He heard "_kill the spare_" over and over, in Voldemort's high, cold voice, before Cedric's face faded with a whispered "_take my body back, will you?_", and was replaced with his mother and father's, who reassured him that everything would be alright, before they too vanished in a haze of green. Just as he thought he could not hold it in any longer, Harry felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

His eyes flew open, and despite not wearing his glasses, he made out Dumbledore's half-moon glasses and long, white beard. "Professor!" He cried. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table.

Dumbledore looked tired, more tired than Harry ever remembered seeing him. "You seemed to be reliving some difficult memories, Harry. Tell me, was it Cedric, or your parents whom you saw?"

Harry's eyes dropped. "Both, sir. I just wish I could have put the entire memory in your Pensieve yesterday, and not just a copy."

"That is not wise Harry," Dumbledore chastised gently, "for it is our experiences which make us who we are, and the fact that you feel pain and regret is part of being human, and importantly, what makes us different from Voldemort and his followers." Harry's eyes remained fixed on the bed sheets covering him, as they started to sting. "You remember what I once told you made you different from Lord Voldemort, I hope?"

"You said that it was our choices which show who we really are," Harry replied sullenly, "but what –"

"Do you not see Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted. "You feel guilt and sorrow for the loss of you classmate, and your feelings influence your actions profoundly. Do you think that Voldemort would be capable of the atrocities he carries out if he were capable of feeling guilt?" Harry shook his head. "So you see, if we were to remove any painful memory we were to ever have, the world would be full of Tom Riddles, incapable of feeling remorse."

Harry shuddered, the memories of the previous night replaying in his mind. "I think I see, Sir. But –"

"It is no easier, knowing this?" Harry shook his head. "I know" Dumbledore said, sadly. "However, may I share a word of wisdom with you?" At Harry's affirmation, he continued. "The old adage, that a weight shared is a weight halved, is true. Talk to Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, you will find that with time, and support, the pain, while it will never leave you, will lessen and become manageable. It is," he sighed, "one of the sad lessons we must learn when we grow up."

Harry stared resolutely at his hands, unable to look his Headmaster in the eye.

"I think it is time I left you to rest, Harry. When you are released from Madam Pomfrey's care, would you please come to my office? There is much we must speak about, but this is neither the time nor place, and I have some pressing matters to deal with. Your escape and forcing of Minister Fudge's hand have sped up events significantly, and I fear we may not be ready for the coming war …"

Harry looked up in shock at this, "Sir…?"

Dumbledore looked at him more a moment, in confusion, before a look of understanding flitted across his face. "Ah, you misunderstand me Harry." He chuckled and patted Harry's leg. "I was most relieved that you escaped, and relatively unhurt at that! No, it was more how easily we were able to convince the Minister of Lord Voldemort's return which caught me by surprise."

"I may not have Professor Trelawney's Inner Eye," his eyes twinkled, as he winked at Harry, who snorted, "but I have long foreseen Tom's return, and the events at the end of last year only made yesterday's outcome inevitable." Harry nodded soberly, recalling the Divination Professor's prophecy. "No, as I was saying, what surprised me was how easily Minister Fudge was convinced to see reason after your intervention. I must admit, I believed that I'd have to ensnare Tom and expose him publicly, before the Minister would see reason, but perhaps circumstances around young Barty Crouch's unfortunate state helped matters along –" he trailed off in thought.

"But that is no longer of import." He concluded, standing up abruptly, "You need to rest, and I have matters to attend to!" He made for the doors to the Infirmary, but paused at the doorway. "Please do not forget to come to my office when you are released, Harry." Harry nodded curtly, already dreading the conversation. "I trust you remember the password?" Again Harry nodded, and watched as the Headmaster spun around and disappeared down the corridor. He sighed and leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes and trying not to imagine Cedric or his parents' faces, but it proved to be a losing battle, even when he drifted off to sleep again.

Later that morning, the Diggorys came to visit him. _They did not blame him for what had happened; on the con trary, both thanked him for returning Cedric's body to them. Mr Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears._

"_He suffered very little then," she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. "And after all, Amos … he died just when he'd won the tournament. He must have been happy."_

_When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, "You look after yourself, now."_

_Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table._

"_You take this," he muttered to her. "It should've been Cedric's, he got there first, you take it —"_

_But she backed away from him._

"_Oh no, it's yours, dear, I couldn't … you keep it."_

The following evening, Madam Pomfrey released him, and he slowly made his way up to the Headmaster's Office. Giving the gargoyle the password and riding the moving staircase to the top, he knocked on the oak door. He heard a muffled "Come in!" and pushing the door open, took a step into the Headmaster's sanctum.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, writing furiously at what appeared to be a quite lengthy letter. He gestured with his left hand for Harry to sit down opposite him.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Harry. I just need to finish this letter –" Harry shrugged and sat down in the offered chair, before realising the Headmaster wouldn't have seen the shrug.

"That's fine, Sir." He was startled when a soft rush of wings announced Fawkes' arrival. "Besides, I think Fawkes wants some attention." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Be that as it may, we have much to discuss tonight, so Fawkes will have to be satisfied by less attention than you usually give him, especially as I have a job for him. I have finished anyway –" He trailed off as he apparently signed the letter with a flourish, rolled it up and sealed it with hot wax. "Fawkes, if you may…?" He held the letter out to the phoenix.

Fawkes seemed to huff in irritation at being disturbed, but obligingly hopped off Harry's knee, took flight and snatched the letter from Dumbledore's outstretched hand, before vanishing in a flash of fire.

The warm feeling Harry always felt with Fawkes' presence abruptly disappeared, as he turned towards the Headmaster, who was regarding him sadly through his half-moon glasses. "Sir…?"

"I find myself in a quandary Harry" Dumbledore suddenly said. "There are things you must know, that I know you must know now that Voldemort has returned, but I cannot bear the idea of burdening one so young with such information."

"Sir…?" But Dumbledore put his hand up to stop Harry.

"I have already decided to tell you everything Harry. I am just trying to think how best to approach this – do you remember at the end of your first year, when you asked me why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?" Harry nodded, and leaned forward, his heart starting to race.

"At the time I thought you much too young for this information, and in many ways, I still do. However events have caught up with us, and I can no longer hide behind the excuse that you are too young. To do so now, would not do justice to your achievements, nor I fear, to the Wizarding World. It is time Harry," he said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you four years ago. I am going to tell you everything. I would however ask you for patience, and that should you feel anger at me, hold onto it until I am finished."

"Anger, Sir?" Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes," the Headmaster sighed, suddenly looking exhausted, "I believe that what I have to tell you will anger you, quite understandably. Given that I have withheld this information from you, you might, quite justifiably I might add, be quite furious with me by the end. I just ask you for a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me – should you want to – when I have finished. I will not stop you."

Harry was a little confused, and more than a little worried. What information had the Headmaster been withholding from him for so long? Then a burst of inspiration hit him, and he glanced into Dumbledore's eyes. "You know, don't you Sir? Why he came after me as a baby. Why my parents –" His question died in his throat, as the memory of his parents' echoes filled his mind.

"Yes, I know why your parents died Harry, and much besides." Harry flinched slightly, but held the Headmaster's gaze. _"_Four_ years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well — not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and diffi cult years."_

_He paused. Harry said nothing._

"_You might ask — and with good reason — why it had to be so. Why could some Wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a son._

"_My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but myself realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters — and many of them are almost as terrible as he — were still at large, angry, desper ate, and violent. And I had to make my decision too with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty, or fifty years before he re turned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you._

"_I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more ex tensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power._

"_But I knew too where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."_

"_She doesn't love me," said Harry at once. "She doesn't give a damn —"_

"_But she took you," Dumbledore cut across him. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."_

"_I still don't —"_

"_While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past _fourteen_ years."_

"Four_ years ago, then, you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well._

"_And then … well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you, and sooner — much sooner — than I had anticipated, you found yourself face-to-face with Voldemort. You sur vived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was … prouder of you than I can say._

"_Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine," said Dumb ledore. "An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undo ing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort."_

"_I don't understand what you're saying," said Harry._

"When you asked me why Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby,_ ought I to have told you then?"_

_Harry stared into the blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing again._

"_You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No … perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age._

"_I should have recognized the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognized that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day … You were too young, much too young._

"_And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced. Once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark upon you. We dis cussed your scar, oh yes. … We came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?_

"_Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my pres ence, blood-stained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, have told you then, it was swiftly si lenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in me to spoil that night of triumph. …_

"_Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."_

"_I don't —"_

"_I cared about you too much," said Dumbledore simply. "I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act._

"_Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have — and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined — not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and crea tures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands._

"_We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and res cued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had tri umphantly snatched your godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were exceptional. My con science was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon. …_

"_But you came out of the maze _a few nights ago_, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself … and I _almost_ did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. _But with Minister Fudge's acknowledgement of the truth, events will progress far more rapidly that I initially expected._ And _so_ now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another — the greatest one of all."_

_Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak._

"_I still don't understand."_

"_Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mis taken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, _with_ his return to his body, and particularly your extraordinary escape from him _this week_, he _will be_ determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. _He will seek_ the knowledge of how to destroy you."_

There was a long silence as Harry tried to process Dumbledore's words.

"I don't understand, Sir. What –"

"What does the prophecy say?" Harry jerked his head in acknowledgement. "There is a Department in the Ministry of Magic dedicated to the studies of those magics which are still mysteries, Harry. One of those magics is divination. There is in fact an entire room dedicated to keeping records of all known prophecies."

Harry made to get up but Dumbledore interrupted him before he was even half way out his seat.

"You cannot enter the Department of Mysteries, Harry. Only those working there may enter." Harry slumped back into his seat despondently, before realising something.

"Sir, if only people working the Department of Mysteries –"

"They are called Unspeakables, Harry." At Harry's confused look, Dumbledore explained, "they cannot speak of their work to anyone, so very few outsiders know what they get up to."

Harry shrugged, and started his question again. "If only Unspeakables can see the prophecies, how does Voldemort expect to hear the prophecy? Will he break into the Ministry of Magic like he did at Gringotts?"

"That is a definite possibility. Prophecies can only be viewed by those it refers to though, so Voldemort would have to personally enter the Ministry to do that. While the Minister has accepted his return, and so Voldemort has little to gain from subterfuge at this stage, I do not believe he will attempt this. He may be powerful, but with the Ministry on alert, even he could not be assured of success. No, I believe he will try to discover the Prophecy's contents by other means."

"Do you mean the Seer who made it Sir?"

"That is a possibility, although a Seer does not remember their prophecies, as you well know. Voldemort may know this too, although he may be desperate enough to attempt to find out that way anyway. The more likely scenario though, is he will hunt the person who witnessed the prophecy, and registered it in the Department of Mysteries."

"Do you know who that was, Sir?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry gravely before answering. "Yes, I do Harry, for that person is me."


End file.
